


Conflict of Interest

by Procrastynol



Series: It's me or the Dog [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Canon Universe, Darkstar is a puppy outside of combat, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, I know nothing about dogs but here we are, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, My First AO3 Post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Procrastynol/pseuds/Procrastynol
Summary: Darkstar follows Rufus everywhere he goes. Tseng likes his privacy in the bedroom. And now, Rufus has to make a decision.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Series: It's me or the Dog [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034511
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	Conflict of Interest

* * *

It’s close to midnight when Rufus Shinra gets up from his desk, deciding to take the last bit of work with him to his private quarters before calling it a night. He sheds his coat and tie on the way there, folding both and throwing them over the closest chair once he has reached the presidential suite on one of the top floors of the Shinra building. Darkstar follows him, her claws making quiet noises on the marble floor while Rufus goes to pour himself a glass of water. The dog waits next to the kitchen area, tentacle languidly wagging back and forth while Rufus leans against the kitchen counter, unbuttoning the collar of his black shirt.

He empties the glass in one gulp, placing it into the sink before making his way over to the living room area. There he gives a quick whistle, indicating the rug in front of the fireplace with a sharp nod. Darkstar follows close behind, turning around on the rug several times before settling down.

“Good girl,” Rufus mutters as he sits down on the dark leather sofa across from his dog. “Stay.”

He puts the file he has brought with him down on the coffee table, brushing a wayward strand of hair out of his face as he flips it open. A report with suggestions for upgrading several outdated mako reactors outside of Midgar is his chosen lecture for the night. He slips his shoes and socks off, tucking one leg beneath him while he focuses on his reading.

It takes about half an hour before Darkstar gets restless. Rufus ignores the first whine he hears, just the twitch of an eyebrow giving him away. A second whine soon follows, louder and more insistent this time.

“No,” he says curtly, crossing his legs as he reaches for a pen on the nearby coffee table.

He has barely scribbled a few notes down when the upholstery next to him gives a protesting groan, dipping under an immense weight.

“Off,” he commands, still not bothering to look up from the article he is reading.

His order is met with silence, and that is what causes him to look up. Darkstar is staring at him with her best set of puppy eyes, shuffling awkwardly to make herself comfortable on the other half of the couch that is way too small for her massive body. When Rufus leans in, she turns her head and avoids his gaze, tentacle twitching nervously, as if she herself was surprised about how she has made it onto the couch.

“D,” Rufus says, one letter holding more authority than Palmer’s entire daily verbal output. “Off. Now.”

The dog gives another low whine but complies, unfolding her limbs as she climbs down. Rufus can see the paw marks on the fine leather despite the low lights in the suite, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Instead he lowers his hand, tapping against his own calf.

“C’mere.”

Darkstar obeys eagerly, giving a happy snort before she starts nuzzling her muzzle against Rufus’ palm. He indulges her, scratching the dog behind her ears until she lays down next to his feet with a satisfied growl.

“Good girl,” he coos, tolerating his bare ankle being slobbered affectionately before the giant hound closes her eyes, resting next to her master.

Rufus continues patting her for a bit before he turns back to his work, the sleepy breathing of Darkstar providing a relaxing rhythm as he dives back into reviewing the blueprints.

* * *

This is how Tseng finds him when he enters the presidential lodgings about an hour later.

It had almost seemed too good to be true when he had checked on Rufus’ office, finding his desk deserted as if the president had decided to call it an early night. Tseng is anything but surprised when he sees Rufus sitting on the couch instead, the sound of a pen scratching against paper drifting through the quiet night. He also notices his white coat hanging over the back of one of the dining room chairs and adds his own jacket and gloves to the growing pile, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt while he makes his way to the sitting room area.

Rufus is just crossing out an entire paragraph of modifications he deems too expensive concerning their cost-effort ratio when a hand falls softly onto his shoulder, followed by a curtain of black hair appearing in his peripheral view.

“Still working, sir?” Tseng asks, the long strands of his hair tickling Rufus’ elbow.

“No rest for the wicked,” he says, well-aware that Tseng must be skimming over the paragraph he just labelled with ‘inefficient procedures, rejected’.

“Are you not tired?”

“How could I be, with such entertaining literature?” he crosses out another paragraph, this time for the multitude of typos having exceeded the limit he can bear. “Had a good day?”

“Mediocre. You?”

“Likewise.”

Tseng nods, squeezing Rufus’ shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re not tired? All that walking must have worn you out.”

“Walking?”

“You’ve been running through my mind all day.”

It’s the first time Rufus stops in his work, putting the pen down. He still doesn’t turn his head to look up at Tseng, though, staring across the coffee table at the fireplace instead.

“That was dreadful. And beneath you,” he snorts. “Who even taught you that abomination of a line?”

“Make an educated guess,” Tseng says with his usual calm, slowly letting go of Rufus’ shoulder as he straightens his back.

“Your second in command is becoming more questionable by the minute,” Rufus concludes, picking his pen up again. “If I have to hear a badly delivered pick-up line you borrowed from Reno _ever again_ , consider this relationship terminated immediately.”

Tseng gives a low chuckle at the hollow threat.

“Understood, sir.”

Rufus rolls his eyes before turning his attention back to the report. He thumbs through the remaining pages, dissatisfied with the number that he still has to read through.

“Did you have dinner?” Tseng asks, loosening his tie.

“Don’t mother me, Tseng.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Did you?”

Tseng gives a soft sigh, sounding weary. Rufus looks up from his documents, throwing him a glance.

“Point taken,” he concedes, undoing the tiny braid at the back of his head.

For a second, Rufus finds himself distracted by the silky black strands falling into Tseng’s face as he tilts his head to massage his neck. Tearing his gaze away is more of an effort than it should be, and when he looks back down at the proposal in his hands, it looks even less appealing than before.

“I’m taking a shower,” Tseng says, making his way down the corridor leading to the bedroom. “Don’t be too long, Rufus.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he calls after him, eyes once more trained on his work as he mutters quietly to himself. “Hypocrite.”

Somehow, he finds his focus again, pushing through page after page while occasionally scribbling down a remark or stretching his arm to give Darkstar a few pats. She responds by wrapping her tentacle around both of his legs, snoring contently.

Rufus finally reaches the last page of the engineering proposal just as the sound of rushing water coming from the bathroom ceases. He resists the temptation to skip over the rest of the report, instead reading every paragraph thoroughly and even adding a conclusive note to the last one. Only then does he put his name in a sweeping signature beneath it, leaning back into the cushions with an exhausted sigh.

“Get up, D,” he commands, giving the hound a gentle nudge with his feet.

The hound wakes with a disgruntled snort, following it up with a low whine when he nudges her again. Rufus gives her a pat, entangling his feet from the slobbery embrace of her tentacle and muzzle. Darkstar complies only after having licked his toes again, then slowly rises to her feet to make way for her master. It earns her another scratch behind the ears before Rufus places the report back into its folder and starts making his way towards the bedroom, the dog trailing behind him.

He pauses in the door to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms as he admires the view. Tseng, towel hanging low on his hips, is standing in front of the large mirror adorning the enormous wardrobe, adept fingers working on weaving his long hair into a braid.

“It’s rude to stare,” he reminds Rufus, pulling him from his reverie.

Rufus shrugs, their eyes meeting in the mirror before he walks over to him.

“You should let it down once in a while,” he says, trying to pull Tseng’s hands away from the braid.

“It’ll get tangled,” Tseng protests. “I don’t have time for this tomorrow morning.”

A telling smirk spreads on Rufus’ face as he finally pushes Tseng’s hands away, his hair dissolving back into singular dark strands cascading over his shoulders like silk. He rests his chin on Tseng’s shoulder, his skin still damp from showering, and wraps an arm around his waist.

“It’ll get tangled either way,” Rufus says to the image of Tseng in the mirror, his fingers toying with the seam of his towel.

“Hm. So, you _are_ hungry.”

“Only a little,” Rufus hums against Tseng’s skin, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Indulge me.”

Tseng chuckles and leans back against Rufus, tilting his head.

“By all means.”

It’s all the invitation Rufus needs before he starts trailing kisses from Tseng’s neck to his shoulder, following the invisible line he draws with gentle touches, rubbing warmth into his skin. He forces a soft sigh from Tseng when he finds a particularly tense spot, massaging it gently until Tseng turns around, looking at him. He leans in and brings their lips together, just a chaste touch before pulling back, their noses still touching.

“This is the last time I’m letting you off the hook for skipping meals,” Tseng murmurs against Rufus’ mouth before closing the gap between them again.

He kisses the witty reply Rufus wants to spew at him right out of his mouth, tongues tangling languidly as his hands travel down Rufus’ chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers brush against pale skin, sending sparks through Rufus’ body and pulling a muffled noise from his throat. He runs his hands through Tseng’s hair, gripping it at the base of his neck, and gives a soft tug, eliciting a low groan.

“Pot calling the kettle black,” he murmurs against Tseng’s mouth before latching onto his neck, sucking at the soft skin there. “Hypocrite.”

“You know, I heard you the first time,” Tseng tries pushing the shirt down Rufus’ shoulders, failing when his leg presses against his crotch, rubbing him through the towel.

Tseng stumbles backwards with another groan, back pressed into the cold mirror behind him. He hears Rufus chuckle against his ear, nibbling at the lobe before he kisses his way down Tseng’s jaw, pausing only to rub his thigh against him. A sigh gets lost between their lips, exchanging sloppy open-mouthed kisses while Tseng fumbles with Rufus’ belt, the buckle giving a clinking sound as it finally snaps open. All blood in Rufus’ body is rushing southwards as Tseng finally touches him, long fingers dipping beneath his pants, rubbing him through his underwear. He gasps into the kiss, bucking up against Tseng’s hand greedily.

“Rufus,” Tseng pants between kisses, but is cut off when Rufus runs his hands down his body, pulling him closer by the wrist to create more friction, both men sharing a moan.

The towel slips from Tseng’s hips, joined by Rufus’ shirt as he leans back to shrug it off his shoulders hastily.

“Rufus,” Tseng tries again, giving him a challenging look that Rufus meets with a smug smile before diving in for another kiss.

It misses Tseng’s lips as he turns away, landing on the corner of his mouth instead. The next moment, Rufus notices Tseng slipping his hands back out of his pants, placing them firmly against his shoulders.

“Rufus,” he says, more collectedly this time.

The smirk on Rufus’ face fades quickly, turning into a frown. He takes a step back, running his hand through his dishevelled hair.

“What now?”

Instead of answering, Tseng nods to something in Rufus’ back, quirking an eyebrow. Rufus turns around, taking in the empty room.

“The dog,” Tseng says.

Right. An empty bedroom, except for Darkstar resting on the thick carpet spread out for her at the foot of the bed. She is chewing on a worn toy in an almost bored manner, red eyes observing them keenly while she sways her tentacle from one side to the other. Rufus sighs, turning back to Tseng. He notices that the towel is wrapped around Tseng’s hips again with a disapproving frown.

“Don’t be squeamish.”

“Squeamish?”

“I can’t help that you’re a cat person.”

Tseng scoffs.

“Now you’re just making assumptions.”

“Assumptions I coincidentally know to be true,” Rufus can’t help but needle while throwing his arms over Tseng’s shoulders. “Relax. You won’t even notice she’s here.”

It is the kind of sultry promise Rufus only makes in the bedroom, determined to reach the point where neither of them can think straight. He punctuates it with another kiss, trying to appease Tseng as he presses against him. Tseng’s palms slide down Rufus’ back, resting against his sides where he rubs circles into the skin above his hip bones and things almost seem to work out in Rufus’ favour. Almost.

“Let me make this clear,” Tseng pulls away from the kiss, brushing their noses together as he speaks. “I tolerate you dragging that _monster_ around everywhere you go because she keeps you out of trouble as long as I’m not around.”

Rufus gives an indignant huff at that.

“But not in the bedroom.”

He presses another peck against Rufus’ lips before entangling himself from their embrace and makes his way over to the bed, keeping a respectful distance from Darkstar. Rufus looks at himself in the mirror for a second, weighing his options, before he turns around with an exasperated sigh.

“D,” he calls, the dog jumping to her feet quickly.

She trots over to him, slobbering over the chew toy she is massacring between her jaws, and drops it on his shed shirt next to his feet. Rufus doesn’t bat an eye at his expensive clothing being irreparably ruined by her drool and crouches down next to her, ruffling the root of her tentacle.

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” he says, ignoring the disbelieving snort coming from the other side of the room. “Tseng will get that one day, yes? You’ll convince him.”

Darkstar gives a happy yelp, pressing herself against the hand patting her. Rufus indulges her for a little longer, rubbing over the leathery skin gently, stopping just before the hound is ready to plop down next to him for an extended session of cuddles.

“Come on, girl,” he says and gets up. “Heel.”

Darkstar obeys, leaving the room at her master’s side. Tseng watches both vanish down the corridor as he sits on the bed, leaning back on his elbows. He hears Rufus’ voice drifting down the hall, ordering his dog to stay, the command followed by a begging whine when he makes his way back to the bedroom. Rufus is alone when he steps back into the room, hand brushing the past the sensor that operates the electronic doors to make them slide shut behind him.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Tseng asks in response to Rufus throwing him a glare.

“When you come in here next time, you better bring a damn good treat with you,” Rufus warns as he walks closer to the bed, pretending to be angrier than he is.

“A sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Tseng says, making a mental note to have a secretary procure a raw steak for him first thing in the morning. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Rufus’ mouth and he nods, carefully climbing on the bed with one knee to either side of Tseng, straddling him.

“The things we do for love,” he says and bends down, his breath feeling hot against Tseng’s face. “Now, where were we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's been almost ten years since I wrote something that I felt was worthy of posting. But I just can't help myself when it comes to these two after playing the Remake. Best power couple 2020, 10/10, would write again.  
> Maybe I will turn this into a little series if I find the time.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Feel free to drown me in feedback or yell at me about Tseng and Rufus anytime. ;)
> 
> Yell at me on Twitter [@procrastynol](https://twitter.com/procrastynol) or find me on [Tumblr](https://procrastynol.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always much appreciated! 😊🖤


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